


choices

by orphan_account



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Afterlife, Angst, Canon Divergent, Dragons, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 08:37:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6948064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>simon discovers the truth about many things during his final battle</p>
            </blockquote>





	choices

Simon knew what was happening the moment he heard the resounding crack of a tree falling in the distance, accompanied by the groan of resisting walls.

He looked out his window to a sight that had only come to him in his worst nightmares, his horrible, horrible dreams. 

The outer gate was wrenched from its foundations, lying strewn across the Great Lawn like some insignificant weed. Mages that had been on the Lawn were scattering, screaming, sprinting toward the inner gate and the moat. A fire was growing in the center of the Wavering Wood, smoke swirling in the sky like an ominous cloud.

Simon saw the source of the destruction. A bright red dragon, the size of a skyscraper, was tearing into the ground, claws ripping up trees and stone and dirt. It opened its enormous maw, unleashing a wave of flame across the Lawn and the Wood. A few people were caught in the inferno; some were staying of their own accord, firing futile spells at the dragon’s impenetrable hide.

Simon knew this was when he was supposed to whip out his wand and save the day, like the Mage, his friends,  _ everyone _ , had always told him he would do.

But when the time finally came, when the Humdrum finally unleashed its most vicious attack on Watford, Simon wasn’t ready; he had never been ready, but without Baz, he never would be.

At this point he didn’t care about losing his life, though. There wasn’t much left for him in the World of Mages; he hadn’t seen the Mage in months, and he never, _never_ , wanted to see him again; Penny had moved to America at her parent’s insistence (for safety); and Simon wasn’t even going to think about Baz. 

Baz, who had hated him since year one and every year after.

Baz, who had tried to feed him to a chimera in the Wavering Wood.

Baz, who had pushed him down the stairs and laughed at him.

Baz, who had always eaten all of his Aero bars when Simon wasn’t looking.

Baz, who had laughed once in sixth year when Simon actually said something funny.

Baz, who had smiled at Simon from across the room in seventh year when he thought no one was looking.

Baz, who had kissed Simon back in the middle of the Wavering Wood at the end of seventh year (Simon had found him, crying alone, gripping the picture of a child with reddish-gold skin and bright grey green eyes, and had kissed him). 

Baz, who had disappeared at the beginning of eighth year and had never come back; not until the Mage had told Simon that Baz was dead, executed for his vampirism.

Simon had never gone off quite like that before; so much power, so much energy, so much  _ raw emotion _ .

But Baz was gone. He was gone, and Simon still had a world to save.

He pulled his wand from his nightstand, glancing quickly at Baz’s empty bed before throwing open the door to the dorm. This would probably be his last time seeing the room; it was a suicide mission after all.

Simon walked quickly down the stairs, careful not to run after that one time he had tripped and fallen into Baz’s arms at the bottom (it wasn’t all that horrible, actually. The memory made him smile. Briefly).

When he emerged from Mummer’s the dragon had reached the inner gate, and merewolves were howling as they were ripped from the moat and shoved down the dragon’s throat. Simon could feel the crackling energy of the Humdrum in the air, tuning his senses to the threat at hand.

He thought about all of Baz’s advice over the years as he gripped his wand, all of the advice thinly veiled as insults.

“Crowley, Snow, don’t point your wand like that Snow, you’re trying to heal the tree, not kill it.”

“You’re saying it wrong. It’s  _ ladybird, ladybird, fly away home _ .”

“Stop trying so hard to focus on the spell itself. Just concentrate your magick. But don’t blow us all up.”

He remembered these things so clearly it hurt, but they were memories, and he had a job to do.

**_“Ladybird, Ladybird, fly away home! Your house is on fire. And your children all gone.”_ **

Baz had tried the spell before; when Simon was focused, he could execute it better (for all of his extra magick).

The dragon looked at him quickly as the words resounded in the air, drawing the attention of anyone stupid enough to stay behind. It gave him a curious look; Simon was afraid the spell hadn’t worked, but then the dragon lifted its immaculate wings, soaring away into the sky.

Simon hoped the battle was over, but a nagging thought told him,  _ the worst is yet to come _ .

And of course, the nagging thought was correct. Walking around the corner, bouncing a small red ball, was boy about eleven years old, in ripped jeans and a ratty shirt. 

Simon stumbled.

“Who- who are you?”

The boy smiled; it wasn’t friendly, it was incredibly menacing.

“I think you know who I am. You’ve been fighting me for years, after all.”

Simon scowled. “Why do you  _ look like me _ ?”

The Humdrum laughed. “Another thing I thought you would have known.”

Simon looked puzzled, but held his ground. “I suppose this is our final fight? Do I defeat you know?”

The Humdrum snorted like a little kid. “You can try, but I don’t think I’m the person you should be trying to defeat.”

“Who should I be trying to defeat? Who else is stealing magick from the World of Mages? So far, the only thing doing that is you.”

“I didn’t come here of my own accord, though. Who do you think created me?”

Simon was dumbfounded. He hadn’t ever considered the question. He just knew that the Humdrum was there, and he had to be defeated.

“I’ll give you a hint: he killed your boyfriend too.”

Simon’s mind slowed to a near-halt. He didn’t think about who the Humdrum was insinuating; he only wondered how the Humdrum knew about Baz. He had never told anyone, not even after Baz had died. It had been too painful.

“How- how do you know about that?”

The Humdrum smiled his terrifying smile. “We’re connected, Simon. I’m like your clean up crew. Everytime you take too much from the atmosphere, I’m there to collect the leftovers. The Mage made you, with all your amazing power, to combat a coming evil. What he didn’t account for was that much power wasn’t ever meant to be held by one person. So here I am.”

Simon felt tears streak down his face. “The- the Mage?”

“Yes. I’m positive I spoke clearly. Now, if we are done chatting, I will get right to the point. I’m not here to kill you, necessarily; like I said, I clean up your mess. Now you need to clean up yours, or the Mage’s.”

Simon was trembling; the  _ Mage _ had given Simon all of this power; he had no idea how. But the Mage had killed Baz, too. He knew that. But with new knowledge, he was determined to end this, whether he was alive or not. 

“What do I have to do?”

The Humdrum noticed his newfound resolve. “Give me all of your magick, and the holes will come back. Eventually.”

Simon nodded. He wasn’t thinking straight; he was grief-ridden, and painful memories of Baz’s death and all of the times the Humdrum had fucked his life up. He would finish what he was made for.

“Okay.”

 

For as weak as Simon felt, he knew he still had one more task to do. He crawled over to a fallen wall, dragging himself back to his feet. The Mage would be here any minute, no doubt hearing news of what had happened at Watford.

Simon still felt small vestiges of magick within him. He didn’t know why some was left over, and it didn’t really feel like his. It felt like an oil burn, hot and painful and familiar.

The Mage would arrive, and Simon would use his last bit of magick in him against the Mage. Revenge wasn’t always the answer, but Simon didn’t care. This was retribution for all of the families affected by the Mage, his reforms, his actions, his obsession with prophecies and destiny.

Simon heard footfalls around the corner, signaling the arrival of the Mage’s Men. People came into view, wearing green and black outfits and brandishing wands. When they saw Simo, they ran to him.

“What happened?”

“Where is everyone?”

“Where is the Humdrum?”

Simon stared at them, his hands shaking. “Gone. It’s- they’re all gone.”

The Men looked surprised, but Simon prompted them. “Where’s the Mage?”

One of the Men pointed to a far wall. “He’s just over-”

“Thanks.”

Simon started towards the far wall. It was a crumbling remain of the White Church. The Mage stood beside it, talking to advisors and discussing the next actions to be taken.

When he saw Simon approaching, limping and shaking, he seemed startled.

“Simon? Why are you here?”

Simon tried to suppress his scowl. “I’m doing what I was made for, right?”

The Mage frowned. “What?”

“Defeating the Humdrum,” Simon clarified, “fulfilling my golden destiny like you always wanted me to. Like you made me to.”

“Simon, I don’t und-”

“Yes. You do. This,” he said, motioning to the destruction around them, “is your fault.”

“How could you say that? Everything I do is to prevent  _ this _ from happening,” the Mage said, raising his voice.

Simon was drawing closer still. “You- you gave me power.  _ Too much _ power. I don’t know how, but you did. The Humdrum told me. He’s gone, by the way. He took my magick. All of it.”

The Mage’s face fell. “What? How- how? Is he defeated? Where did he-”

“He said he had to take my magick. To restore balance. And he did take it. Well, almost all of it.”

And Simon lunged at the Mage, shouting at the top of his lungs,

“ **_Tyger, tyger, burning bright!_ ** ”

In a flurry of fire and smoke, Simon and the Mage were engulfed, and burned to ashes.

 

The Veil wasn’t like Simon had always thought it would be. It was peaceful, but it was also quiet. He didn’t see mages milling about in the afterlife as he had always thought. There was no one but him, actually. In a field of misty grass and cloudy skies that reminded him of Baz’s eyes.

He walked for a while, but he didn’t know how long; time was irrelevant. He felt his shoes and the cuffs of his trousers grow damp from the grass. He felt a wind stir every once and awhile, blowing hair in his face.

He had killed the Mage. Sure, he had died with him, but the Mage was dead. And he would stay dead.

Simon walked up a steep hill, digging his soles into the ground below. When he crested the slope, he looked out at the abyss before him. Nothing for miles and miles.

But his eye caught on a dark shape in the distance. He couldn’t tell what it was; a tree, a structure, a  _ person _ . He descended the hill, careful not to slip and go skidding down the grass (because Baz wouldn’t be there to catch him this time).

When he reached the bottom of the hill, he looked again in the direction of the mass. It was visibly moving closer now, as if it had seen Simon. Simon picked up his pace, growing into a run and sprinting across the wet grass.

The figure grew closer. It was running too. Simon could see the person was taller than him, with darker features. He couldn’t determine who it was though, so he ran faster.

As he moved closer, he began to see more features. Like the shoulder-length black hair. And the deep gold skin that he wasn’t used to (he was used to pale white). Eventually, he could see the green-grey eyes staring down at him a few inches above Simon’s head.

“ _ Baz. _ ”

“ _ Simon. _ ”

Simon reached up, running his fingers across Baz’s face. 

“You- you’re here? You’re here,” he said, pushing fingers into Baz’s hair.

“Yes, I’m here, Simon. Why are you?”

Simon looked away. “I killed the Mage.”

Baz frowned. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

Simon looked back into Baz’s gleaming eyes, wanting to kiss him so badly. “I used  **_Tyger, tyger_ ** _.” _

Baz looked sad. “Why? Why did you kill yourself to destroy the Mage?”

Simon ran his thumb across Baz’s cheekbone, then his jawline.

“There were multiple reasons. But the main one was that he killed you.”

Baz grabbed Simon’s face in both of his hands. “You killed yourself?  _ Because of me? _ ”

“Yes,” Simon answered, moving his hands to hold Baz’s wrists around his face.

“Why? Why would you choose to die for me?”

Simon thought for a moment. He thought of all the months he had spent, miserable and lonely, without Baz with him in the dorm. He thought of all the times he had destroyed his sheets, his textbooks, his clothes, because he was so  _ angry _ . 

He thought of how happy he had been before Baz had died, though. How Baz’s presence would light up the room, light up Simon’s life, like nothing else ever had before.

“Because I choose you. Because I’m in love with you.”


End file.
